Paper Hearts
by Passivity
Summary: In the evenings when they find themselves alone yet unable to say the words that their hearts ached to proclaim, a piece of paper and a few ounces of ink often found themselves in tangent along with their feelings.


_**A/N**: ... I have no freaking idea what I just did here..._

_I actually started this from middle to end, took a break for a day and started writing the beginning up until the part right before the middle... Something that I've never done before and still confuses me so..._

_As I promised to the people that reminded me that I was going against the rules with **"Love Can Be Different"**, I decided to extend them all into separate oneshots and just delete the original._

_And, before anyone can make a big deal out of that issue, please know that I did this of my own accord and that no one forced me to do anything... They just reminded me of the rules is all._

_(They were actually pretty nice...)_

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><p><em><strong>Paper Hearts <strong>_

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><p>Nights like these were always subjected to such a sight.<p>

It was a routine. Its origins a mystery, even for the two that often found themselves trapped in that habitual dance of chained emotions.

Inside her office, it would always happen in her office with the doors locked, the lights turned off and the curtains pulled part so that the flickering light of the lamppost outside served as their only source of illumination.

The lighting was dramatic, if nothing else. It set a mood that would have one think of an evening rendezvous with an illicit lover. Which, was as closer to the actual truth that any normal passerby would guess. Even if the scene was set in Orb's very own parliament building.

"Please sit down." Cagalli told him just seconds before he even took that hesitant step to the inside.

He'd take his time walking towards the visitor's chair that was always propped up in front of her desk, just long enough to notice how tense her shoulders were as she leant against the chair, how frantic she looks, how dull and almost lifeless her amber eyes were and how uneasy her breathing seemed to be.

"Athrun?" Only to find that he to breathed far too heavily than he normally did and that he was standing right in front of her desk in manner that suggested that he had come there for nothing more than business alone which was a far cry from the real reason for his presence there.

"Please sit down." Cagalli repeats, Athrun complies, and everything else falls into silent obscurity thereafter.

...

No spoken words.

...

No voices.

...

Just the two of them in the isolated world of her office with a pen, a few measly pieces of paper and a wall clock that would hang forgotten until the very last second that they notice the lateness of the hour.

They begin as they had, accidentally, just a few weeks ago. From a small dresser, Cagalli procures a small stack of spiral notes and a cheap ballpoint pen. They both smile and, after a few tense seconds, one of them would scribble down questions about the mundane. About Kira and Lacus' relationship, about Mana's sudden resignation, politics, world hunger, world peace, the constant attempts of the masses at marrying her off to some wealthy noble family's son, their parents, any subject that they can possibly broach.

Tonight, she feels much more inclined to be the one answering the first question so Athrun finds the pen in his hand, and the notes in front of him, and starts writing down what he had been wanting to ask her since he had caught a glimpse of her frazzled form this morning.

_How have you been? _

The first question of the night. Simple and direct.

...

Just the way that Cagalli preferred things to be.

...

Flipping over to an empty page he pushed it along the desks surface to her and waits until she figures out what to respond to him with. _Fine. Bordering on stressed. The usual._

They went off from there, passing the notes back and forth.

Every now and again, lighthearted laughter would be heard, followed by an indignant huff. The former usually coming from Athrun, and the latter from Cagalli who felt more than displeased to answer one certain question of his. She would always find that there was no choice for her in the matter. May it be demeaning or otherwise, they've made an unspoken vow to answer truthfully and wholeheartedly if only for tonight.

The lies and the masks could be saved for the morning when they were most needed, but in these late hours, both Chief Representative and Admiral take time to loosen the imaginary shackles and chains that bind them to their duties. It was at these times that they set aside their ranks to be just Athrun Zala and Cagalli Yula Attha.

This was a temporary grace period that only took effect when no other eyes fall unto and scrutinize them.

So they could never complain.

As the notes slid over to his side of the desk again, the question it contained forced a genuine smile to grace his features.

_Does it still hurt?_

It took him a moment to realize that what she was referring to was not a broken arm caused by a bullet from the barrel of his father's gun, but a slowly healing wound just below his abdomen from a botched attempt at his life by terrorists during the rare moments that he had been given precedence over one of Orb's many military practices.

Just another hectic day that ended with him doubled over, blood all over his uniform and the sound of terrified screams playing in the background. The funny thing was that he was the one who ordered for security to be lessened specifically just to keep her from feeling uneasy about the whole matter. After all, who would attempt an assassination when hundreds if not thousands of highly trained soldiers were present at a given time? Of course he found it hilarious when he felt the barrel of a small pistol pressed against his abdomen and that the soldier whose finger was on the trigger happened to be wearing the same uniform as he while declaring him to be coordinator scum that the world must be rid of.

Yes, it was hilarious… In a morbidly, racist and ironic way.

The criticism he received right after the incident served only to add salt to his wounds. To think that the media could react so cruelly to an incident that could have taken his life.

It didn't help that he still remembered those feelings so vividly.

It hurt, but not close enough to the pain he felt the moment he'd woken up in the hospital a couple of days later, only to find her right there by his bedside, glaring at him with tears in her eyes as if she knew what it was that he'd done.

Because, honestly, she did and she hit him square in the jaw for it.

…

Without giving much thought to his answer, he pushed the notes back to her, not even bothering to write it down.

_Of course it does._

Her voice. Athrun wanted to hear it laced with concern just as it had been before.

Back when they still had something that could even pass as friendship, back when his feelings didn't need to be hidden away under cloths of white and blue and ranks of green and gold. "No. It doesn't…"

Even if it meant the end of tonight's conversation…

Selfish, that was what he was and, unfortunately, it was something that Cagalli would never have of him.

The way that her eyes stared into his own, how terrified and shaken she was when he uttered those words while looking at her so intently with emotions that she had thought she would never quite see again… It had him cringing.

That was obviously not something that she expected out of him. It was too sudden.

There was a pause, a brief respite from the words that Athrun had uttered. But it weighed on her and she just shook her head, willing for the sound of his voice to leave her be and stop making her ears ring. Pushing to her feet, she quickly reached for the notes and tore out the pages that they had both written on.

Later, they would be burned.

It was on pure impulse that Athrun found his own seat toppling over from the sheer force of him vacating it. It was on pure impulse that he made haste to get to her before she could even hope to take a small step away from where she was standing. It was on pure impulse that he found his arms around her in a manner that was similar to what he had done back when the Archangel was supposed to leave for that final and decisive battle.

But it was out of pure cowardice that he found that he could not speak the words that he desired to tell her even then.

"Don't… Please don't leave." That was all he could say, but it did little to keep her from doing so.

"I'm sorry…" She whispered, gently pushing his arms back down to his sides, away from her. It wasn't out of contempt, no. If anything, she wanted nothing more than for him to kiss her right then and there, to fall into his embrace and hear him whisper sweet nothings into her ear just as he had before.

But not tonight... Or the subsequent nights at that.

Orb needed her more. What her heart wanted didn't matter.

She loved him still, but could offer him close to nothing as all of her belonged to her country whether she liked it or not.

If ever there came a day that she would be allowed that one chance at happiness, it wouldn't be now.

And she acknowledged this fact wholeheartedly.

"Sorry. Sorry... I'll see you tomorrow… Admiral."

He wanted to ask her what was she apologizing for and why her voice sounded so detached, but she didn't give him enough time to do so. She moved out of the range of his embrace. The plush carpeting of her office did very little to muffle the sounds that the soles of her shoes made as she headed for the door, leaving him to welcome the cold on his own, for the nth night in a row, with the evidence of that night's confrontation in her hands.

It was only after he heard that dull lifeless sounds that the door made when it closed shut did Athrun realize just how torn apart they were.

How difficult it would be to mend what they once had.

He swallowed whatever it was that formed in his throat that kept the words from being spoken. He held back the tears and kept himself from running after her. Instead, he chose to look outside, just beyond the windows, to the world that they all fought so hard to protect without expecting any form of compensation in return. Only to find that the sky itself that lay as a witness to their nightly routine served to mock him in his misery by clearing up and showing him the stars and the moon that they've always admired from afar.

They sang a tuneless elegy as their light crept in to grace Athrun with their cold, unfeeling glow and he listened as it was accompanied by the sound of the beating of his broken heart.

And, for the first time in the years that preceded the second war, he hated himself and her. He despised what they've become.

The blessing of a higher rank that could bring him closer to her again… It was nothing but a curse, a thread that dangled the forbidden fruit in front of him. So close, yet never even coming near enough to give him a taste of that sweet delight.

Because he promised the he wouldn't force his way back into her life.

And she promised to be strong enough to lead her people and that did very little to break down the wall that she set up around her heart to keep him away long enough until ORB was back on its feet again.

Tremors wracked his entire body as he turned to that small spiral notebook on her office desk. Without even thinking, he sat down on the table top, and reached for the small stack and for the pen that Cagalli had set down prior to her rejection of his embrace.

Only a few leafs of notes and ounces of ink left.

Only a few more before these nightly routines would come to an abrupt end with no proper successor or conclusion and, of all the things that he could have done at that very moment, he uncaps the pen again and writes.

_I love you._

And he smiles, finding it easy to write the words down but never say it to the one girl that he's been through so much with.

And if it was nothing if not heartbreaking for him to realize that this may be as far as they could ever hope to be again, the tears that fall listlessly from his eyes just made him look all the more pitiful.

But he tries.

He still tries.

He hopes and removes that note from the rest, folding it and planting a small kiss on its surface before depositing it inside his pant pocket and heading for the door.

"Next time." His voice breaks and his heart aches.

_Next time._

There would always be a next time.

There was absolutely no need to rush.

Athrun was really getting tired of lying to himself.

_-00-_

_-0-_

**End**

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><p><em><strong>Written-Sin:<strong> -_-... Lengthwise, I believe that this is probably the second, or third, longest oneshot that I've ever written..._

_... Is probably one of the most depressing too... Meh..._

_Review please._


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